Good Girls Say Yes

By: Penny Wylder

They told me a little bit about how Lily and Mark met, and that Mark is one of the best men that they know. So when I finally manage to catch Lily alone, I feel prepared.

“Hi!” she squeals, enveloping me in a hug that’s full of white tulle. “I’m so happy you could come. How are you? I’ve been trying to get over here for like an hour but you know weddings. Everybody wants a piece of the bride.”

I hug her back. “I’m good. I spent that hour talking to Jenny and Christopher. Or should I call him Master Christopher?” I raise an eyebrow.

She makes an exaggerated cringe. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you about Mark and our lifestyle. It’s not easy for people to understand, and they make assumptions. Since we haven’t seen each other in person in such a long time…I honestly wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

I swallow, and take a deep breath, trying to calm the lingering doubts I have. “It’s a surprise. I would never have guessed based on the way I had to force your ass to socialize.”

“That’s true,” she laughs. “But it turns out that I just had to find my tribe. It was where I least expected it.”

“But…this,” I say. “You want this? You’re not being forced into it or anything?”

Lily smiles at me in a way that lets me know that she’s answered this question probably a thousand times, and maybe several hundred of those times have been tonight. “I understand why you’re asking. Believe me, I do. But please believe me when I say that I am happy. Mark is a good man and he would never hurt me. Our relationship—our dynamic—is based on trust and love. I would never do anything I’m not comfortable with, and Mark would never make me.”

I still have that little niggling doubt in the depths of my stomach, but she’s not lying. Truth and happiness are radiating from her like she’s the damn sun, and I find myself getting a little teary. “I’m really glad that you’re happy.”

“Oh, Emma,” she pulls me into another hug. “You’re going to be happy too. I just know it. You’re going to get everything that you’ve ever wanted.”

Someone taps her on the shoulder and she’s swept away into another conversation, leaving me alone wondering what the hell I actually want. Not this, my mind instinctively says. Not loneliness, not looking at people who tie each other up and being jealous for god’s sake. I turn to go back to the table and find Jenny and Christopher locked in a passionate kiss, and I have to look away. Why the hell didn’t I come to this wedding with a date? Nothing is worse than being alone at a wedding where everyone is coupled up but you.

I don’t go back to the table. I go to the bar and refill my drink. And after that drink, I have another. And another until I’m not feeling sorry for myself anymore and am suddenly feeling sexy and available. This is much better.

“I hope you’re drinking water with all of those,” a deep voice says behind me. I turn to find an attractive man towering over me, an eyebrow raised as he looks at my drink.

“Last time I checked,” I say, “water doesn’t get you drunk.”

“True, but it does keep you from having a hell of a hangover.”

I look him up and down, and even though I’m well past tipsy, I can see that he’s hot. Like…smoking hot. Set off the fire alarms all by himself hot. The suit he’s wearing doesn’t disguise the fact that he’s ripped, and his face has got all those angles that they talk about when they say ‘classic beauty.’ I’d be just fine in the morning if I could stare at him all night.

He’s laughing now, a rich baritone that tells me I spoke out loud without even meaning to. “If you’re going to stare at me all night, then you’re going to drink some water. Don’t move; I’ll get some.”

I roll my eyes as he turns his back and I down the rest of my drink. Hot and a party-pooper. I think I’ll have a better time on the dance floor. Before I know it, I’m in the middle of the writhing bodies, losing myself in the music. I don’t need a man tonight—even if he is sexy as fuck. I don’t know why I felt bad earlier. Nothing can be bad when you feel this good. I love dancing. I don’t know why I don’t go dancing more.

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